


faded

by shiraishin



Series: turn blood into ink [1]
Category: Produce 101 (TV), X1 (Band)
Genre: Clubbing, Drunk Kissing, M/M, Tattoo Artists AU, stuff like that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-25 23:24:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20034067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shiraishin/pseuds/shiraishin
Summary: Seungwoo’s face is covered in glitter like the night sky is covered in stars, and Seungyoun really wants to kiss him.





	faded

**Author's Note:**

  * For [woojinisms](https://archiveofourown.org/users/woojinisms/gifts).
  * Translation into 日本語 available: [faded](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20962616) by [establish-an-alibi (komibanana)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/komibanana/pseuds/establish-an-alibi)
  * Translation into 中文 available: [faded](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20120950) by [establish-an-alibi (komibanana)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/komibanana/pseuds/establish-an-alibi)

> this fic has been translated into [russian](https://ficbook.net/readfic/8500963) and [chinese](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20120950)! thank you <3

“Why not?” Jinhyuk asks, elbows propped on their kitchen isle, his chin resting on his hands. 

“Because I said so.” 

Admittedly, Seungyoun has no reason to refuse Jinhyuk’s offer to join him and Wooseok on their weekly _ Sinchon-Hongdae tour. _ (“First, we go to this cheap bar near Sinchon station that smells like mold and cigarette smoke, and then we take a walk to Hongdae and go to either M2 or Mxdholic. Kinda like a sightseeing tour, don’t you think?” Jinhyuk explains. Seungyoun regrets ever asking.)

It’s the slyness in Jinhyuk’s smile, like he knows Seungyoun will eventually agree, that makes him want to say no. Besides, despite it being his day off tomorrow, he has to finish some sketches and send them to his clients, or else the owner of the tattoo studio he works at will scold him for the second time this month. 

“You’re being ridiculous,” Jinhyuk doesn’t give up. He lets out a sigh and shakes his head. “Just say yes or else I’ll make Wooseok pout at you. It’s really cute, you know? You won’t be able to refuse him.”

“Why are you so set on making me join you two?”

It’s not that Seungyoun doesn’t notice the hearts that pop up in Jinhyuk’s eyes every time Wooseok is around; he simply chooses to ignore it, because there’s a time for everything, and apparently Jinhyuk isn’t ready to mention it out loud. Even without being told, he knows Jinhyuk just wants him to be the third wheel and make things seem like a friendly outing, not a date. 

“I have my reasons. Are you coming or not? I’ll pay for your drinks.”

Unfortunately, Jinhyuk knows him way too well.

The first time Seungyoun sees him, his face is covered in glitter. The way pink and purple lights of the club hit his body reminds Seungyoun of an abstract painting rather than a real human being, and he’s absolutely captivated by the sight.

“What do you want to drink?” Jinhyuk asks, glancing at his watch. Seungyoun snaps out of it, but still keeps his gaze on the stranger because he couldn’t tear it away even if he wanted.

It’s still quite early and the club isn’t that crowded yet, just a few groups of people scattered around, engaged in conversations while the DJ is playing some underground R&B beats no one knows how to dance to. Wooseok still hasn’t shown up, so Jinhyuk is a mess of anxious sighs and glances at the door.

“Some _ cojinganmek _ would be good, actually,” Seungyoun says.

“I’m on it.”

Hours later, the crowd is too thick to see through, and quiet beats have been long replaced by some trashy dance music Seungyoun probably wouldn’t enjoy sober. 

(Thankfully, he’s far from sober, so it doesn’t annoy him that much.)

They’re sitting in a booth Jinhyuk has booked earlier and Wooseok is complaining about a client he had to deal with that day. It seems that the alcohol has already taken over his senses though, because he’s lost his train of thought twice already, and the story doesn’t make much sense to Seungyoun. Jinhyuk, obviously, keeps nodding and humming at everything he says, with his hand on Wooseok’s thigh and adoration written all over his face.

After a while, Seungyoun tunes it out and searches the crowd for the stranger he saw before. He finds him easily, standing out in the crowd like a neon light; at least that’s what he is Seungyoun. He’s swaying to the music easily, as if it was true and only calling, and Seungyoun licks his lips.

Wooseok lets out a laugh at something Jinhyuk has said, and the stranger glances at them even though it’s impossible for him to have heard that. Seungyoun looks him in the eye, daring. The stranger holds his gaze.

And then, Seungyoun realizes he’s in for big trouble.

Seungyoun finally has the chance to look at him from up close when Jinhyuk hands him a fifty thousand won bill and asks him to order another round of drinks (_yakult _ soju for Wooseok and _ cojinganmek _ for Jinhyuk. Seungyoun repeats it a few times as he walks up to the bar, trying not to forget).

He’s waiting for the bartender to make the drinks when he hears someone whisper a greeting into his ear. The feeling of breath against his neck makes him shiver, and even though Seungyoun has never heard this voice, he already knows who it belongs to. 

“Hi,” he responds with a lazy smile, glancing over his shoulder.

He already looked beautiful when Seungyoun was staring at him from across the club, but up close, he’s absolutely stunning; heavy make up making his eyes rounder and cheekbones more defined, long bangs already messy from sweat, loose shirt showing his collarbones and arms. Specks of glitter on his cheeks look like a starry sky, and Seungyoun takes his time to admire the tattoo on his shoulder, going up all the way to the base of his neck, and suddenly his lips feel dry. 

It’s a soft smile the stranger gives him that makes Seungyoun realize he’s been staring for a little too long, so he clears his throat and says, “What should I call you?”

“Seungwoo,” he takes out a bill and orders soju with sprite. “Let’s not care about the honorifics, okay?”

Seungyoun has to blink a few times when he realizes that the stranger — _Seungwoo_ — is from Busan, his syllables rough and a little stifled in his mouth. He’s always been a sucker for dialects and this realization makes things even worse than they already are.

“Seungyoun,” he introduces himself after a while, and picks up his drink from the bartender. Seungwoo does the same, a little later, and instantly takes a sip.

“Well, Seungyoun,” breath catches in his chest at the sound of his name in Seungwoo’s mouth, “How about you give your friends their drinks and join me on the dance floor later?”

Seungyoun is definitely, definitely too sober for this.

Turns out that Seungwoo truly is a born dancer, and also an incredibly clingy one. Seungyoun feels his skin burn at Seungwoo’s touch, one hand on Seungyoun’s hip to pull him close until there’s close to no space between their chests.

“I’ve been watching you all night,” he whispers into Seungwoo’s ear, struggling to resist the urge to kiss the skin there.

Seungwoo lets out a breathy laugh in response and says, “I know.”

That’s all it takes for Seungyoun to lose his mind already. He wonders how it’s possible for Seungwoo to be this collected when he’s clearly a little drunk too, although probably not as much as Seungyoun already is.

He isn’t sure how much they spend like that, noses almost brushing, lips almost touching, huffs of breath dissolving into the thick air of the club. Seungyoun doesn’t even register other people who bump into them occasionally, too drunk to keep their balance; every time someone apologizes, Seungwoo just offers them a soft smile and turns his attention back to Seungyoun, making him melt at how sweet it is.

Seungyoun knows he should stop settling for this fake feeling of intimacy between them; knows they’re just two strangers, dancing together in a random, loud Hongdae club, and maybe this spark in Seungwoo’s eyes is just an illusion his mind decided to create to make a fool out of him, but it feels like something. He holds onto it, just like he holds onto Seungwoo in this sea of bodies, and for now it’s enough.

“Do you want to go somewhere quiet?” Seungwoo asks when they’re both a little too breathless to continue, sweat sticking to their bodies like warm honey. 

Seungyoun just nods and intertwines their fingers.

They end up in what’s one of the most obscure bathroom stalls Seungyoun has ever been in, walls covered in stickers and drawings and random confessions of love, but he doesn’t mind it as Seungwoo grabs him by the chin to finally, _ finally _ kiss him.

He kisses just like he dances; with a spark of electricity, slowly but with the fire of a thousand suns. Seungyoun can’t help but let a moan leave his mouth when Seungwoo pins him against the dirty wall and tugs at his hair, hard. 

“You’re so desperate,” Seungwoo breathes out and moves to kiss his neck, bite his skin hard enough to leave marks that will serve as a reminder tomorrow. “So desperate for me.”

Seungyoun should probably feel something resembling shame, but the words are laced with so much adoration and desire that all he can do is rest his head against the wall to let Seungwoo have more access to his neck and say, “Who wouldn’t be?”

He’s close to letting out a whine when Seungwoo pull his mouth away from his skin, raising his head to glance at his face, eyes shining like two crystal stones. He stares at Seungyoun for a while, searching for something as Seungyoun’s confusion keeps rising.

“What?” he decides to ask in the end. He’s close to begging Seungwoo to continue, but doesn’t want to give him the advantage of knowing that he’s already a goner.

“It’s nothing.”

Soon, his lips are on Seungyoun’s again, and Seungyoun lets him deepen it, because he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else in this moment even if the sky started to fall.

This time, it’s less mouth, less wetness, and more fingers on Seungyoun’s cheek, caressing and so so delicate, along with occasional sighs and moans. Every inch of his skin feels like its on fire, about to blow up, but maybe it’s thanks to Seungwoo’s warmth against him. 

But he certainly feels like an exploding star when Seungwoo puts his knee between his thighs to part them and press against his crotch. It’s amazing, really, how easy it is for Seungwoo to reduce him to moans when they’re both still fully clothed and struggling to keep their balance.

Seungyoun is ready to decide that he wants nothing more than for it to last forever, but then, his phone rings, and Seungwoo pulls away, his chest rising and falling, hair disheveled and lips puffy.

“Answer it,” he says, running his fingers through his hair to fix it. “Might be something important.”

Seungyoun nods reluctantly and eventually taps on the green button, bringing the phone to his ear; except before he can even greet Jinhyuk, Seungwoo’s hand is already palming him through his jeans, earning him a moan from Seungyoun.

“What the fuck,” he hears Jinhyuk cry out through the speaker.

_ Asshole,_ Seungyoun mouths out, covering the phone with his hand. Seungwoo just shrugs and continues with a shameless smirk on his face.

“You know what, I don’t even have to know,” Jinhyuk says then. “Anyways, _ really _ sorry for interrupting, but Wooseok is really _really_ drunk and I need your help to take him home. Just this once?” 

“Ah,” Seungyoun breathes out. Seungwoo plants a kiss on his collarbone, starts moving his lips upwards to his neck again. Another moan. “I’m really —”

“Cho Seungyoun,” Jinhyuk’s tone turns serious, “Come outside, or else I’m telling this dude about that one time you puked all over your Balenciaga pants and spent the whole night crying. And I know he can hear me —”

Seungwoo covers his mouth with his hand to suppress a laugh, but fails miserably and hides his face in the crook of Seungyoun’s neck to muffle out the sound.

“See?”

“Okay,” Seungyoun exclaims, petting Seungwoo’s soft hair. “Give me a second.”

  


The next morning, it’s not the smell of alcohol lingering in his room that gives him a headache. Surprisingly it’s not the sight of Jinhyuk, hair greasy and yesterday’s shirt still on, either. 

It’s scrolling through his the list of his Kakaotalk contacts and realizing Seungwoo’s ID isn’t there.

“I hate you,” he says in the general direction of his friend when he hears him open the fridge to look for something to eat. Jinhyuk just shrugs in response.

“You’ll manage,” he says, and Seungyoun might not be the one to approve of violence, but hearing it really makes him want to slap the back of Jinhyuk’s head. Jinhyuk, on the other hand, seems completely unaware of it, because he asks, “Want some coffee?” 

Seungyoun gives him an annoyed sigh.

“I mean it, you absolute disgrace. You owe me big time.”

There are many things Seungyoun regrets.

He regrets not studying harder for his entrance exams, because despite his mother’s affirmations, she would be prouder of a son who’s a university student than she is of him now. He regrets not practicing hanja in middle school; maybe then, he wouldn’t have to refer clients who want to have Chinese characters tattooed on their skin to one of his coworkers. He regrets breaking up with his high school boyfriend over the phone, not reading enough books, not moving abroad to study when the opportunity appeared in front of him a few years ago.

But above all, he regrets forgetting to ask Seungwoo for anything that would let them keep in touch and maybe, just_ maybe_, help turn a memory of warm hands and an alluring smile into something more than it is now. 

  
  
  
  
  


The second time Seungyoun sees him, it’s a crispy spring morning two days later. 

He wakes up earlier than usual that day and grabs the sketches he’s been working on for the past two days before leaving and taking the green line to Hongik University station. 

Less than an hour later, he’s already at_ Twosome Place _near one of many station’s exits. He orders an Americano with soy milk (gaining a sigh from the barista in response) and sits by the window, watching people his age rush to work, their formal wear so similar to uniforms of students on their way to school. At the bus stop, people keep glancing at their phones and watches, visibly irritated by the bus being late; on the opposite side of the street, a small store owner is getting ready to open his business again.

He sighs to himself and turns his attention to his phone. He’s in the middle of scrolling through his Instagram feed when someone walks in, but the video of a kitten trying to climb a bookshelf is too engaging to raise his head. The smell of coffee fills the room once again as the barista prepares the order, and the only sounds are the hum of a coffee machine and quiet, nostalgic music playing in the background.

Soon, someone slumps into the seat on the opposite side of his table and places a small plate with a piece of lemon cheesecake in front of him.

“Oh my god,” Seungyoun breathes out, staring at Seungwoo’s smiling face in front of him, so real that it makes his heart skip a beat. He’s wearing an oversized, striped button-up shirt, and the way he’s styled his hair is so different from what it looked like that night, but Seungyoun has no trouble recognizing him. 

“It’s you,” he blurts out, “It’s really you.”

**Author's Note:**

> hmu on [twt](https://twitter.com/noctvne) <3
> 
> read the sequel [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20229265)!


End file.
